Tinder Dry
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "He'd given up on secrecy and professional decency two hours before noon, drawing the line at squirming in his chair as his body put up a tantrum at the whole notion of sitting, conference calls, and paperwork." - Sequel to "Smoke Stack Heroes. D/B/L
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** Set somewhere near the end of season three where Danny Quinn is still team leader. – Warnings: Slash, threesome, adult language, adult scenes, titch of blood, sex pollen and its aftermath.

**Authors Note #2: ****This is a continuation of my fic: ****_"Smoke Stack Heroes"_**** set directly after the story left off. It probably won't make much sense without reading ****_"Smoke Stack Heroes"_**** first.** *****This ficlet is for _Knitekat _who encouraged me to write more in this 'verse, evil little sprite that she is.** * **Special thanks once again to _Fififolle_ for her helpful encouragement and lovely beta work. All mistakes are my own.

**Tinder Dry**

**Chapter 1  
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Hands posed behind his back, he nodded to Lorraine before strolling from his office. Pointedly ignoring her thinly veiled stare as the irrepressible woman followed his progress down the ramp from underneath the dark fan of her lashes. He'd already stopped being concerned over the amount of times his secretary had raised her eyebrows at him. Feeling the weight of her keen gaze as he'd remained standing to sign at least half the day's paperwork, taking more tours around the ARC in one day then he normally did in three.

He'd given up on secrecy and professional decency two hours before noon, drawing the line at_ squirming_ in his chair as his arse put up a tantrum at the whole notion of sitting, conference calls, and paperwork. Somewhat unsurprisingly he'd made his first tour around the complex not long after that. Stretching his sore muscles and soothing out the kinks as he soldiered through it.

Besides, he certainly didn't want to miss the distinct pleasure of watching Quinn and Becker shift and wince as the day progressed. Or in Becker's case downright _yelp _as the younger man forgot himself and sat down just a bit too hard as they'd gathered for the weekly budget meeting. Looking deliciously sore and uncomfortable as the younger man smothered the rest of his exclamation by the skin of his teeth.

_Good boy…_

Quinn had looked like the proverbial cat that had got the cream as the others stared openly. Or at least he had right up until the moment where he'd looked the ginger man right in the eye and _insisted _he take a seat as well. Only quirking an undeniably smug brow at the slight wince and pointed glare he'd received in return. Revelling in the moment as the man shut his gob and wriggled in his seat. Ultimately deeming the whole affair well worth the thudding ache whinging up from his _own _sore cheeks as he shuffled his papers and got down to business.

_All in all it had probably been the most subdued, uneventful meeting in ARC history. Sore arses not withstanding._

After his fourth tour around the ARC, he was forced to resign himself to the fact that he was doing nothing more then making the staff jumpy. Returning to his self imposed exile in remarkably foul humour as Lorraine made herself scarce. Resoundly cursing Danny, Becker, himself, and the entire notion of sitting as a whole as he eased himself back down into his chair with a smothered grunt.

_Bollocks._

The screensaver on his laptop flashed enticingly, seemingly at odds with his resigned sigh as he tapped on the mouse pad and logged in. Clicking his way through the veritable heap of data until he'd located the CCTV archives. He supposed he couldn't put it off any longer, lack of official paperwork not withstanding, he still needed to know what had happened; both personally and professionally.

It didn't take long. Thirty seconds at the most before he was hooked. Transfixed and utterly enraptured as he watched with bated breath. Hardly realising he was holding it in as his eyes remained fixed on the screen. It was like watching a train wreck in progress. _A very sensual…and unexpectedly good looking train wreck, but an utter disaster nonetheless._

His hand came up to adjust the tightness of his tie as he watched Abby and Sarah wheel the tray of bio-medically sealed samples from the containment area. With Connor, Becker, and Danny trailing sedately in their wake, hands moving animatedly as all five of them headed towards the small incinerator three levels down.

The cameras caught muted moments of polite chattering and good natured ribbing, displaying a tightly knit group that seemed supremely comfortable within their own collective skin. After the loss of Stephen, Cutter and Jenny it was everything he could have hoped for, bonding together, despite all odds, under Quinn's strong, but undeniably unique form of leadership.

He suppressed a smile, tapping idly at his chin as he watched Becker take over wheeling the cart, letting Abby fall back to join Connor as they turned down the hall towards the disposal units. The love struck pair was almost painfully oblivious as they danced around their mutual attraction like a couple of pre-pubescent school children tugging on each other's pig tails.

_He was going to grow old and grey by the time one of them finally grew the balls to make the first move, he was bloody well sure of it. _

His back straightened, sore muscles throbbing in concert as they entered the incinerator room. Pausing the footage for a brief moment as he glanced inconspicuously around the room, watching Lorraine's close black curls bobbing minutely as she took a call. Scribbling on a memo pad as one impeccably manicured nail switched phone lines seamlessly, starting the whole process all over again. He rose up in his chair a few inches as he peeked over the screen. Barely catching sight of the top one of Connor's infernal, charity shop hats hunched over the ADD. Seemingly engrossed in some sort of diagnostic, having eyes only for a baffling screen of streaming green code as his fingers fairly flew across the keyboard.

There was no sign of Quinn or Becker. Something that in itself wasn't exactly reassuring, yet on the other hand wasn't entirely surprising either. Their absence probably meaning that either one or both of them were currently rappelling down some far flung heating duct or base jumping off the side of the building in the name of improving security. Call it what you want, but he knew a friendly rivalry when he saw one. The two weren't fooling anyone on that front, improving security his _arse_.

_Daft buggers, as Cutter might have said._

Once assured that he wasn't likely to be disturbed, he hit play. Sore muscles tensing on reflex as he pressed a few choice keys and the feed switched over to the incinerator room cameras. Eying the screen closely, he watched as Becker wheeled the cart over to the technician. Pausing to sign the sheaf of paperwork as the younger man ferried the bags into her care.

And much like Quinn and Becker had already explained, what followed was a series of staggered exits. With Doctor Page eventually making her excuses and leaving the others. Heading off in the direction of her office as Becker and Quinn shooed Abby and Connor off as well. Waving them out just as the technician finished signing the last bit of paperwork.

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as Quinn and Becker head's whipped up in concert when the machine's controls suddenly blinked an angry, caustic red. With the flashing words: "Warning: Malfunction. Obstruction in tray one," causing an annoyed frown to take up residence on the technician's face. Her long fingers hunting and pecking around the keyboard until a flash of relief coursed across her face. Popping open a tool kit and rummaging through it as she explained the problem.

With a small grin Quinn took the proffered wrench and ducked under the conveyor belt. Moving out of sight of the cameras until one arm raised itself out from the depths of its mechanical innards and traded Becker the wrench for a set of long, stainless steel tongs as the craggy man set about prodding the troublesome material back into the centre of the incineration tray.

He winced on sheer principal. But when Quinn returned from adjusting the sample, he could see no visible difference in the tall, ginger man. Even going so far as to pause the feed as the man dropped the tongs into a cleaning tray, and set about washing up in the small sink with the anti-contamination gel as per protocol.

_So far so good._

The rest of the process went by without a hitch. With both men standing idle as the technician tapped her foot and eyed her watch, obviously having other plans for the evening as they waited for the machine to render the troublesome material to ashes. But it wasn't until Becker had signed the final release form, waving a cheerful farewell to the impatient technician that he realised Quinn was no longer standing beside them. Instead he was at the sink, large palm curled into a makeshift ladle as he drank straight from the tap, shaking his head minutely, as if attempting to clear it as he followed Becker from the room.

_That had to be it._

Danny had been exposed somehow. Perhaps he'd breathed in at the wrong time, or touched something he shouldn't have before the sample had been completely rendered harmless. He doubted they'd ever know for sure given their limited knowledge on the blasted plant itself. But either way the damage had been done.

He eyed the two closely as they passed from camera to camera. Watching as seemingly animated conversation grew close and stilted. Until the younger man started shooting Quinn questioning looks from the corner of his eye as the taller man ran a hand through his hair, wide eyed and sweating visibly as they reached the main floor. He switched over to the central ARC feed and stared with open interest as Quinn waved the solider away. Melting seamlessly into the background when Becker was distracted by a small group of his men, not even noticing when Danny slipped off down the hall towards the locker rooms. Steps growing quick paced and jerky as the man's shoulders hit the frame, practically falling into the wall as inexplicably awkward limbs struggled with the door handle.

His hand came up to loosen his collar at the mere sight of him. Pants growing worrisomely tight as he watched Quinn all but stumble into the locker room. Not even waiting to get into a stall before yanking his trousers open. Wide palmed hands visibly shaking as his straining cock was revealed in all its glory. Auburn hairs all but glowing in a halo of burnished, reddish gold as the overhead lights flickered. Chasing the arcing shadows down the length of the man's profile as Danny hunched into himself, flailing for balance as sweat dripped down from his temples in _rivulets_.

He could see confusion, lust, and desperation warring for dominance on the man's expressive face. And he couldn't quite deny that his hungry eyes _didn't_ follow the arching tip of the man's chin as Danny hit the wall, eyes closing in a silent groan as the redhead's hands curled around his prick. One hand coming up to brace himself against the full length mirror as his hand jerked around his considerable length.

There was no finesse, showmanship, or effort to drag it out. No. This was down, dirty, and desperate, with tension cording down the length of the man's neck as he surged headlong into the single minded pursuit for release. It was almost as if the man was caught in the grips of something he couldn't control. Seemingly mindless of the fact that he was leaning against the wall in the middle of the locker room, in full view of anyone who might happen to enter. Absurdly large palms wrapped so tightly around his cock that it peeked out of his fingers in a painful red and strangled purple looking hue.

And soon he forgot to feel guilty about getting aroused over the whole affair, having eyes only for the way Quinn looked down at his unflagging cock, slick and gleaming with his release as pleasure blown eyes blinked beautifully. The proverbial 'deer in the headlights' coupled with that of unaccustomed wildness as almost unbidden the redhead's hand started stroking once again. Working himself hard and fast as come blurted from the tip.

He shifted in his chair. Prick throbbing in spite of himself as he fought for control. _Christ that was hot._ He'd never taken himself for much a voyeur, but he'd be damned if on this occasion he didn't see the appeal.

His attention fastened back on the screen as Quinn's hips arched. Cock blurring in his hand as the man's lips pulled back, hissing in a silent snarl as he came again. Shooting all over himself, and the full length mirror he was braced up against as his naked thighs visibly trembled. Subsiding into strangled pants as one of the man's come streaked hands skidded carelessly across the immaculate tiles, coming up to yank on his already loose collar as a flush spread down his ruddy, freckle splotched skin.

He could almost see the realisation in the man's eyes as Quinn's fist tightened around his cock for the _third_ time. The struggle for clarity over that of arousal and baser instinct was clear in the way the man fumbled with his radio, slick fingers struggling to press the necessary buttons before giving up and trying to rise. Hand working himself incessantly as he wavered, pulling himself across the floor one handed until he collapsed in a sweaty, mismatched heap in the middle of the floor, only a few metres from the emergency alert button affixed on the opposite wall.

It wasn't until the man had come _again_ that he raised himself up on his hands and knees. Straining cock curving into his belly and all but _dripping _with his release as man's sweat slicked head hung low between the arching juts of his shoulders. Shaking himself much like an errant dog coming in from the rain. But when the man looked up all evidence of that previous will power and determination had vanished. Replaced instead by pleasure darkened eyes and a particularly feral expression that sent a bolt of electricity winging down his spine.

Because he knew that look, that wildness, want, and half feral abandon. He'd felt it and been caught in the grips of it in turn. It had been like nothing he'd ever experienced. Overwhelmed by the unexpected clarity of desire and the surety of instincts he hadn't realised he'd had in the first place.

_Christ._

He nearly jumped in his seat, brow in danger of disappearing into his hairline as Quinn seemed to look right into the camera lens. Panting hotly into the open air as his cock twitched, smearing come across his taut stomach as the man's head tilted.

He was startled by the sudden change when the man went rigid. Clearly listening to something only he could hear, before he leapt to his feet. All feline grace and that too wide, feral grin as the man's engorged prick was stuffed unceremoniously back into his trousers. Fumbling gracelessly with the buttons as Quinn fled deeper into the shadows of the room, locking himself into one of the stalls the same moment a small horde of soldiers tumbled through the door.

_Ahah! So not so random after all. _

He kept a close eye on both the stall and the milling group as they stripped and showered. Fresh from long day of training exercises at the local training range. And in that half an hour span, Quinn neither moved nor made even so much as a bloody_ peep_. Letting the soldiers shower and horse around unhindered. In fact it wasn't until the last man had followed the rest of the mob out the door that Quinn emerged.

The taller man prowled the length of the room. Trousers ridiculously tented and now sporting a growing damp patch to match as the man reached down to cup himself. Stroking like an afterthought as his head cocked, suddenly looking towards the closed door like he could see right through it. Face tilting upwards like an animal scenting the wind the same moment a toothy grin stretched across his pleasure- wrecked face.

And on impulse he paused the feed. Shaky fingers working across the keyboard for a few age long moments before he brought up the footage from outside of the hall. Suspicions confirmed as he noted Becker strolling down the hall towards the locker room, one hand on his radio as a frustrated look tripped across his handsome features.

_Quinn knew. He knew it was Becker._

He blinked. Switching back to the locker room feed as Danny skirted the benches and took up position just out of sight of the main door. The move almost strategic in the way it would force the man to fully enter the room in order to see him. A rush of anticipation coursed through him. Cock twitching pointedly in his expensive, pinstriped trousers as his brain supplied a series of quite... _erotic_ mental images. It didn't take a bloody rocket scientist to know what was going to happen next.

They tussled. Fighting for dominance and the upper hand as Quinn tried to pin the younger man to the floor. Barely noticing the man's growingly worried shouts as reasoning failed and professional caution came into play. With Becker trying his best to gently fend the man off until he found himself slammed against the lockers as Quinn licked a stripe up his neck. Teeth bared in a silent growl as Becker's eyes went comically wide.

He almost felt sorry for Becker as he watched the younger man's mouth move, miming words, perhaps even pleas as he cursed the lack of audio. Forced to simply watch and imagine as the soldier managed to push the taller man back. Delivering a series of manoeuvres meant to keep the older man off balance and topple him to the ground, no doubt hoping to try and reason with his team leader as he tried to keep Quinn at bay.

It was a strategy that probably would have worked, save for the rather important fact that the ex-copper wasn't buying it. Not one bit. In fact Danny used the younger man's unwillingness to hurt him to his advantage, stalking him from the sidelines of the soldier's reach. Ignoring the man's placating gestures and calming words as Quinn slowly backed him towards the far wall.

His movements were disturbingly reminiscent of a tom cat toying with its prey, as the older man bared his teeth in a feral grin. Dark eyes making a mockery of his usual amicable humour as the man feinted to the left. Bouncing on the balls of his feet as Becker stiffened, clearly not amused with the man's mind games.

But despite the soldier's attention, Quinn eventually got the upper hand, taking the younger man down to the floor with a vicious jab at his solar plexus as they tumbled over one of the benches. Wrestling and scrapping until suddenly, faster then either he or apparently _Becker _could process, Quinn had the soldier by the scruff of the neck. Kissing him fiercely as the man's stunned eyes struggled to clear a mere second before Danny lanced down and sunk his teeth into the man's neck. Sucking and licking at the wound as a thin rivulet of blood escaped, rolling down his neck in a trailing, crimson band until the older man licked him clean. Nipping at the abused skin and keeping him pinned in place as the man howled in pain and more then a little pleasure judging by the size of the bulge in his trousers as he struggled.

It didn't take long. Perhaps the 'infection' was passed through prolonged contact or even that of blood or saliva because only minutes later, Becker's last haphazard pushes had suddenly turned into pointed thrusts as he met Quinn's demanding kisses with his own. Bold hands fumbling with the clasps of the man's trousers as Quinn did the same, thrusting shamelessly until Becker keened into Danny's throat. Hips jerking convulsively when Quinn refused to let up, stroking the younger man demandingly until he forced him supine against the dirty tiles and swallowed him whole.

_Bloody hell…_

It wasn't until they'd reached their third collective release, thrusting into each other thoughtlessly as they chased their pleasure that it happened. Because in unison he watched as both their heads arched up, scenting the air keenly as they slithered off the floor and to their feet. Limbs mingling together as they ran errant hands down each other's flesh, apparently unwilling to let go of each other completely as they prowled up and down the length of the room. Clearly on the hunt for something as they canted their heads, smearing come and sweat down the length of the wall as they trailed filthy fingers along the white washed render and metallic lock boxes.

He swore he missed a breath when they halted beside a remarkably familiar looking section. _His locker? What would they want with his blasted locker?_

His eyes seemed far too large for his head as he watched the two men nearly climb on top of each other as they rifled through the locker's sparse contents. Trading sloppy kisses as everything from his deodorant to his cologne was shoved unceremoniously aside. In fact, it wasn't until Becker's hand curled around one of the old university shirts he used when making use of the ARC's gym that he realised what was happening.

_They could smell him... Christ on a bloody crutch... They could fucking smell him…_

**A/N:** Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! There will be one more part to this particular story which I hope to have up soon!

"_There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from."_ - Elisabeth Kubler-Ross


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** See original chapter for full warnings and information.

**Authors Note #2: ****This is a continuation of my fic: ****_"Smoke Stack Heroes"_**** set directly after the story left off. It probably won't make much sense without reading ****_"Smoke Stack Heroes"_**** first.** *** **Special thanks once again to _fififolle_ for her helpful encouragement and lovely beta work. All mistakes are my own.

**Tinder Dry – Chapter 2**

He wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or inequitably aroused as the two men breathed in his scent. Shirt crushed between them as they kissed roughly. Lips and tongues demanding entrance as Quinn slammed Becker up against his battered locker, pinning him against the hard metal as the older man lanced down. Lips following the curve of the younger man's profile until his teeth glinted in the low light. Baring his teeth for a split second before he lurched forward and sunk his canines into the soldier's neck. Deepening the wound he'd made earlier as Becker spasmed and cried out. Coming in his trousers as Quinn buried his hand in the man's hair and yanked, tracing the edges of the seeping wound with his tongue.

After that, things got sort of… _frantic_.

Because in no time at all Quinn had Becker pinned, ripping at the fastenings of man's trousers until he sent buttons and clasps pinging off behind them as Danny freed the man's straining length. He seized the shirt from the man's pleasure-slackened grip the same moment Becker's head fell back against the lockers. Moaning wordlessly as Quinn wrapped the garment around the man's leaking erection and started jacking him off with it. Bringing him off with what was undoubtedly _his own _scent rising up between them.

_Holy fu-_

Something deep in his brain nearly howled at the sight of them like that, lost in pleasure over his mere scent. It appealed to some baser part of him he hadn't realised he'd had until the night before. Some elemental part that had remained untapped until his higher facilities had been stripped from him, leaving him vulnerable to instinct and base drives that had both startled and thrilled him in turn.

To see them like that, desperate, needy, and all but coming over themselves at the mere smell of him on some sweat stained, half forgotten scrap of cloth… Well, _good god_. He couldn't even process it. It was beyond his comprehension.

He didn't even want to hazard a guess at the state of his blood pressure as Quinn pumped his release into the soiled garment mere seconds after Becker's face screwed up in that tight, _pleasure-pain _grimace as his cloth-covered cock jerked, and he spurted into the dark grey fabric. Lips parted in a low, throaty moan as their sweat slicked foreheads tipped down, kissing listlessly through the aftershocks.

_For fucks sake, the bastards were going to give him a bloody heart attack._

Absurdly grateful for the cover of his desk, he hissed a breath of air between his clenched teeth, barely managing to suppress a groan as he pressed the flat of his palm down on his aching cock. Desperate for some form of relief as his hips threatened to arch, the sensation of that phantom pressure causing him to swallow hard as his prick throbbed in response, feeling his balls tighten as a curl of pleasure simmered in his gut.

_God, if he didn't find some way to-_

The unexpected sound of Lorraine laughing from just outside the room nearly had him windmilling out of his chair. Hand whipping out from underneath his desk as if it had been_ burnt_ as he fought to school his breathing, eyes skittering from the paused footage to the sight of Lorraine and Jenny hunched over a bunch of papers his secretary had spread across her desk.

_Shit, what the hell was he doing? He was at work for Christ's sake!_

But in spite of it all he still couldn't quite bring himself to close the feed. Keeping it paused and half buried underneath a mountain of tabs as he turned his attention back to the stack of files on his desk. But as many proverbs about good intentions tend to suggest, his moral fortitude lasted right up until Lorraine knocked on his door with his afternoon tea, clucking with disapproval as she caught sight of his lunch half finished and chucked in the bin before she returned a few moments later with a small stack of biscuits and a pointed look.

_The bloody woman was worse then his mother. And twice as keen if the small pack of Nurofen she'd placed beside it was anything to go by. _

He eyed her over the rim of his mug as her siren-red stilettos clicked back towards her desk. Not for the first time considering the possibility that his secretary had the innate ability to read minds. Only to nearly choke at the mere thought. _Christ. Knowing his luck lately…_

He was halfway through the stack of biscuits and on his second mug of tea before he gave up on all pretences of working and switched back to the paused footage, bringing it up to full screen before he gathered himself and pressed play.

His abused shirt was still crushed between them as they slid down into a tangled heap on the floor. Clearly losing the willpower to stand as the shirt hung from Quinn's fist like some sort of sordid banner. The grey fabric now stained a dark charcoal with sweat and come as they rubbed against it, smearing their fluids deeper into the ruined garment as the smell of him rose in the close space. An act that only seemed to excite them further.

He swallowed hard. Fingers trembling as one hand came down to rest against his thigh. Rubbing the beginnings of a warm sweat into the expensive Italian wool as his nails dug into the meat of his thighs. Desperate and all but lost to everything save for the siren call of confusion and growing lust stirring in his blood.

However, after a long moment it seemed as though some sort of consensus had been reached. There were no words exchanged, at least none that he could discern through the footage. Because with another near brutal kiss they separated, hands brushing against each other as they righted each other's clothing, trading feral grins and pleasure darkened looks as they stalked from the room in concert.

He followed them as they ghosted from hallway to hallway. Letting go of the worried breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding onto when they met nobody on their way out of the building and onto the main street. They hailed a cab about a block and a half away from the ARC before he lost them in the late evening gridlock, already well aware of _where_ they were heading.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling in a slow rush as he fought gravity and won. He ran a hand through his hair and rolled the kinks from his neck, body and brain humming with tension as he caught a glimpse of Quinn and Becker slipping into the taxi. A textbook smudge of shadow-swathed lines and pixelated frames, paused in the act, caught red handed as it were.

Leaning back, he attempted to sort through his scattered thoughts, forcing his mind to focus as he fought to make sense of the larger whole. Fitting in puzzle pieces of memory as he reworked his tired mind. Convinced he was missing something rather drastic as he categorised and reshuffled two days worth of errant thoughts and mismatched memories.

_There was something he was missing... Something obvious, hard edged, and…_

He was caught completely off guard when he realised that it wasn't just the images or the memories that were dogging him, but something else entirely. Because try as he might he couldn't seem to let them go... _Becker and Quinn_. What it had felt like to wake up amidst that tangled pile for the _second _time, surrounded by errant thighs and criminally comfortable planes of flesh. Lavishing in the closeness, the utter ease of it, marvelling how it had felt so inexplicably _right_ all at the same time.

He hadn't felt anything like it. He hadn't-

_Fuck! _This was supposed to have been simple, a mere blip in the radar of his otherwise normal life, a one off in more ways then one. Only it wasn't, at least not to him, apparently.

_Damn it all to bloody hell!_

And if he left an hour before Lorraine, easily four or five hours earlier than was his habit, he was careful to ignore the startled gazes from everyone in the main room. Too busy brewing in his own, self made hell hole of recrimination as he stalked down the hall towards the garage.

He was so deeply caught up in berating himself for his naïve, idiotic musings that he completely missed the heated look shared between Danny and Becker as they watched him walk down the length of the hall with his head held high. Palming his keys like they were some sort of a life line as he stalked towards the car park.

But if he was hoping for peace of mind when he returned home he certainly didn't get it. Instead he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Already fancying he could feel the beginnings of a stress headache building behind his eyes at the mere sight of the chaos that was his flat. …_Lovely._

Papers, books, clothing, and knickknacks were still littered across the length of his home. The furniture either upended, out of place, or rumpled beyond salvaging as he skirted past his bedroom entirely. All too aware of the sight of what would greet him when he entered. The picture perfect aftermath of a Hollywood love scene, lamp shades askew as the duvet hung half off the bed. Throw pillows and sheets flung across the surface of the pale blue carpet like individual boats lost at sea.

There hadn't been much time that morning to do anything more then see to the worst of the damage before going their separate ways. Arriving just in time to see Lorraine beetle off down the hall to prepare his morning coffee. _Godsend of a woman that she was._

All else considered, his flat was a bloody mess. And yet, in that moment, he suddenly realised that he couldn't even bring himself to care. In a way he had to marvel at it, knowing all too well how much he detested any sort of clutter or mess. But today? He couldn't bring himself to lift a bloody finger.

Instead he curled his lip and stalked right past the lot, ignoring the fluttering papers and cracked hardcover spines as he made for the dressing room. Mindless of the chaos as his brain buzzed, exhaustion and a growing sense of uncertainty hemming him in from all sides as he fought against the enormity of his own thoughts.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket without a word, slipping off his tie with his customary neatness as he undid his sleeves. Tossing the silver cufflinks in the dish beside his dresser as he set both his suit and tie aside to be cleaned and pressed.

He didn't even think twice about the indulgence as he flicked his shirt open to the third button. Exposing the bruise strewn crown of his chest and all but revelling in the sensation as the open air played across his unveiled skin. He hummed tunelessly as he unclipped his braces and rolled up his sleeves. Habitually stowing his watch and briefcase on the dresser before padding back to the kitchen barefoot, enjoying the sensation of the carpet hushing across the soles of his feet as he perused the fridge.

He raised an irritated brow as he took in the meagre contents. Realising he'd likely have to order in as he opted for the half full bottle of _Pinot Noir _he had chilling in the wine cooler. Pouring himself a generous glass, he picked his way in between the bits and pieces of torn clothing and toppled furniture before sprawling across the couch in a fit of easy grace. His limbs careless and unaccustomedly debauched as he sank into the butter soft cushions, barely able to hold back a sinfully grateful moan as he relaxed.

_Christ, what a day!_

He let his head fall back as he closed his eyes. Fingers massaging his temples as he mulled over the scenes that had played out on the CCTV footage. Even after the events of that morning he was stuck attempting to work out exactly where the three of them stood. After all, it wasn't like something like _that _happened every day. Even in their line of work.

Though, he supposed the point of the matter was that the events of the night _before_ could be explained away. With the three of them caught in the grips of some overly amorous, pre-Cambrian plant spore. But the events of the morning_ after_, and indeed his reaction to the footage _couldn't_. Oh, he could probably find some way to blame it on the pollen, it would be sinfully easy to in fact.

He could, but he'd be lying. And so would they.

When he'd invited them to his bed he hadn't been in the grips of the pollen or suffering from a weakened state of mind. He'd known _exactly _what he'd been offering. He'd known and he'd done it anyway, just the same as when they'd accepted. Bringing him down onto the mattress in an amicable mess of strong limbs and heated gasps, hemming him in until he couldn't tell which swathe of skin belonged to whom, or to whose lips he was demanding entry. Teeth tugging, owning, and giving way all at once…

He took a slow, appreciative sip, savouring the excellent vintage as he rolled the taste around with his tongue. He'd always been drawn to a good blend. It didn't have to be the best vineyard, or even the best year, but what he couldn't abide was sloppy blending. Makers that truly understood the art, for it was _indeed _an art, _that _was what made a fine wine.

His lips slipped from the rim of the glass as his tongue curled, chasing the flavour as he gave his mind its head. Stepping back from the firmness of his resolve as he let his thoughts trip into the grey, desperate enough to risk the consequences of his actions, and indeed his emotions as he struggled to understand _why _he couldn't let this go.

_And in all honesty it didn't take long to dig to the heart of it._

After his divorce he'd told himself he'd sworn off complicated relationships. And he supposed, if he was being completely honest with himself, somewhere along the line that had become an excuse for remaining alone. For politely declining the odd, well meant offer, and eventually removing himself from the opportunity for such interests to form at all. Telling himself every time he let an opportunity walk through the door that it was better this way. Better for his career, his family, and for himself.

It was a load of complete and utter bullshit and he knew it. Good god, even to him it sounded unaccustomedly cowardly. It was so unlike his nature that even _thinking_ about it made his stomach churn. And yet, he'd let it continue.

Because soon the term 'complicated' somehow came to encompass all relationships. A self made death knell to his love life. Standing as a metaphor for something he'd do just about _anything_ but examine too closely as he'd shored himself away from the possibility of love, loss, and heartbreak.

Been there, done that, bought the bloody t-shirt.

So perhaps that was why he couldn't help but find it side splittingly hilarious that he'd gone from nothing but his left hand, to not one, but _two _bed mates. Two bed mates that were both very _male _and were his subordinates to boot. The irony behind it was utterly delicious.

He snorted indelicately, a small smile playing with the corners of his lips as he smothered a chuckle behind another healthy swallow. - _Madame fate apparently had a sense of humour after all. He'd be sure to alert the proper authorities._

He was on his second glass and no closer to an answer to his current cess-pool of a situation when he was startled by a sudden knock on the front door. And for some reason he was more surprised then he figured he ought to have been when he caught sight of Becker and Quinn idling in the hall, just behind the peephole.

_Bloody wonderful._

Mind awash with memories of what had happened the last time he'd open his door like this, he leaned against the handle, pressing his forehead against the cool, white washed steel for a long moment before he made to open it. Steeling himself against… well, _whatever_ before he undid the lock and pulled the door open.

He wasn't sure who was more startled, him or the two men standing at the threshold of his door. Him, for finding them there, arms laden down with white paper bags, and them for… well, he certainly had no idea. After all, they were the ones who had knocked on _his_ door. Not the other way around.

Although, it didn't occur to him until much later that perhaps they weren't so much surprised to see him as they were surprised to see him in the manner in which he'd appeared. Dressed down and reckless in the chase for his own comfort, he'd answered the door in nothing but his trousers and a shirt unbuttoned to the navel. Revealing the lean plane of his chest and the bruise strewn canvas of his pleasure- wrecked skin for all the world to see, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows as the sweet tang of wine stained the inside of his swollen lips.

_To anyone else he might have looked wanton, a man on the prowl. And hell, perhaps he was…_

Because he stared and they stared right back. And for a long and rather awkward moment no one said anything. Seemingly at a loss for words as the enormity of what had happened in the last forty eight hours finally descended.

"I trust this visit won't end in torn clothing and the all around destruction of my flat?" he finally quipped. Somewhat mollified to see that at least Becker had the good grace to blush. Trying and utterly failing to ignore Quinn's salacious wink as his eyes roved down the length of both of them. Taking in their casual dress and flickering expressions with interest.

But in the end he only glared and rolled his eyes. Secretly grateful for the man's irrepressible humour as the tension that yawned between them slowly began to lessen.

"We brought Chinese," Becker piped up. Waving one of the massive paper bags he had clenched in his hands as he flashed him a quiet smile. Brown eyes crinkling with honest mirth as he gestured towards the bags that Quinn was holding as well.

"A good thing too," Quinn remarked, "we saw the state of your fridge, figured you wouldn't say no to some take away," the ex-copper finished, letting the words air out like an explanation as he leaned into the door frame.

"And we brought whisky," Becker added, shifting a six pack of Guinness out of the way in order to reveal the small bottle of premium whisky with the air of a man fishing out a particularly satisfying prize. And with good reason, because even he raised a brow when he took in the label. It was a bottle of ten year old Talisker. Smooth and supple with one hell of a backdoor kick.

_Now they were talking._

"Well in that case, come on in gentlemen…"

**A/N:** There will be two more parts to this particular story which I hope to have up soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** Please see original chapter for full warnings and related information.

**Authors Note #2: **This is a continuation of my fic: _"Smoke Stack Heroes,"_ set directly after the story left off. It probably won't make much sense without reading _"Smoke Stack Heroes"_ first. *Special thanks once again to _Fififolle_ for her helpful encouragement and lovely beta work. All mistakes are my own.

**Tinder Dry – Chapter 3**

It wasn't until they'd put a considerable dent in the take away that the two men seemed to find their tongues. It was gradual at first, deceptive in its slow, meandering ease, but it happened nonetheless. With purely work related chatter skittering off the rails somewhere in between the spring rolls and the ginger beef. Until he suddenly found himself defending the Spur's second half and debating the sustainability behind the city's newly proposed sky metro station, versus that of the opposing plan, to simply extend the London underground.

All else considered it was worrisomely easy to get caught up in each other. The conversation was effortless and smooth, like they had been doing this for years rather than for the better part of an hour. He didn't know how else to describe it other than that it felt a whole lot like a brand new sort of… _normal. _

The whole thing sent his mind tripping off into dangerous territory. Because it made him wonder what that might mean in the grand scheme of things, if it meant anything at all. It made him wonder why he hadn't allowed himself to sit down and have a proper conversation with the two of them before. Why he hadn't known that Becker had gone to Sandhurst the same year as his mentor's eldest son, even shipping off to Afghanistan in the same unit for their first tour. Or that Quinn had a god uncle in MI5 that had once been tasked with organising his protection detail during a bomb scare in parliament a few years back.

…_Funny how things tend to work out sometimes…_

But even then, idle chit-chat could only get them so far. And it seemed as though they had reached that point when Danny chugged the rest of his beer in one go, sliding Becker and himself a fresh can without a word before he caught his eye and refilled his glass. Completely ignoring his motion to stop when the redhead passed the generous two finger mark and kept on pouring.

_If he didn't know any better he'd swear the man was trying to butter him up…_

"Look Lester…" Quinn began, straightening against the couch cushions before he slapped his palms down across his knees in apparent affirmation.

"James," he cut in. Tongue tripping ahead before his mind could consider the full connotations of such a gesture. Not exactly regretting it, but still wary of what such an offer might mean all the same.

"Sir?" Becker questioned. Using that same blasted tone that hovered somewhere in between acquiescence and outright impertinence. Just subtle enough that he could never quite pin the man with it, but present all the same. …_Saucy little brat._

"We aren't at work and considering the circumstances," he trailed off, gesturing around at the shambles of his flat before flicking a smattering of fingers towards the three of them. Suddenly no longer content to stick with formalities in light of everything that had happened.

"James then," Quinn replied, a small smile gracing his craggy features as he gave him a small nod. Glancing at Becker out of the corner of his eye as the younger man all but squirmed in place.

_Oh for god's sake._

"I suppose we do have to talk. Clear the air and all that," he finally allowed, gesturing thoughtlessly as he took another healthy swallow. Doing his best to break the cut-throat silence that had descended between them like it _hadn't_ just cost him more then he'd ever admit to keep his voice level.

"Sir- I mean…_Lester_," Becker cut off, seeming to lose steam half way through as a distinctly pink tinge flushed across the younger man's cheeks.

_The whole thing would have been hilarious if it hadn't been so god damned tense._

"Look mate, soldier boy's awkward blushing aside-" Quinn began, only to be brought up short when Becker glared. Eying the man down until he took a pointed swig of his beer, the can crackling warningly in his fist as the man's frown subsided.

He swallowed his mouthful of whisky and remained silent, abandoning his quest to pick out the last remaining pieces of sesame seed chicken from the nearest carton as he forced himself to settle back into his chair. Feigning nonchalance and forced calm as he chased his mouthful of whisky with another. - But judging from the soulful look Becker shot him a few moments later, he figured he must have been doing a remarkably shoddy job of it.

"I think what Quinn means to say is that we watched the tapes. Just like you," Becker posed. Gaze strong, but thoughtful as he looked him straight in the eye. His eyes dark and half veiled behind those same, criminally long lashes as the soldier held his stare. As if daring him to deny that he hadn't.

_Ah. Here it comes._

"And we mean _all_ of it, from start to bloody finish," Quinn butted in; gesturing around the room with his half empty can.

"I see," he began, deliberately drawing out the pause as he chose his words carefully. Unsure of the other men's intentions as he swirled the contents of his glass in nervous habit. Cursing the moment when his life seemed to have become so bloody complicated.

"Yes, it's a pity our society tends to frown on the more risqué avenues of cinema these days," he drawled. "Otherwise, after that choice display, Becker and yourself might have been enticed into another, and dare I say far more _lucrative _line of work," he quipped, taking it as a small victory when Quinn's lips quirked before he continued.

"No matter gentleman, missed opportunities for adult erotica and x-rated fame aside, you can be sure that the entire affair will unfortunately be lost in an untimely archival error or computer malfunction. I will see to it personally," he assured.

"No ruined careers or diminished marriage prospects," he added, adding another few fingers to his glass as he fought to keep his tone level. Ignoring the damning way his throat had begun to tighten as he forced the words out. Molars grinding together like he'd been chewing on glass as his lips curled into his usual, unaffected smirk. - Another nasty habit he couldn't quite bring himself to break, regardless of the circumstances.

He made sure that his voice betrayed none of the disappointment he was feeling as both men turned in place. Staring him down as he looked into his glass, refusing to be drawn in to whatever he might find there. Disgust? Relief? Confusion? Amusement? He didn't want to see it.

_He couldn't._

He tossed back the rest of his drink in one smooth swallow, rolling the syrupy burn around with his tongue before he chanced a look up. Only this time, confusion was quick to follow. Because it was then, within mere seconds of meeting their eyes, that in spite of it all, both men's faces suddenly cleared. Wide grins and heated looks spreading across their faces like aftershocks as he stared back uncomprehendingly. It was almost as if Quinn and Becker had just come to some sort of realisation that he'd inexplicably missed.

"Nah guv," Danny murmured, spine arching provocatively as he stretched in place.

"It wasn't the pollen, that plant, or however the hell that dodgy shit even works. It was us. _You.._." Quinn continued, eyes back-lit and smouldering as he inclined his head towards Becker as the younger man made to speak.

"We talked it over after we watched the feed. Quinn didn't go after anyone else after he was infected, he came after _me_. And in the locker room, when we smelled… well, _you_, we wanted that as well. You and us, no one else.. It just sort of… _clicked_," Becker remarked, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head. A small smile gracing his features as his gaze fastened on him, hungry, heated, and undeniably eager.

_Wait, what?_

"We came here because we wanted to. We wanted_ you_ Lester. And apparently that has nothing to do with the pollen. Near as we can tell it doesn't work like that, it never has. It _isn't_ random," Quinn affirmed, long legs twitching restlessly as he leaned forward, eyes raking over him from across the short distance.

He tensed, spine stiffening millimetre by millimetre as the man's words echoed in his ears. Having been in politics long enough to know when he was being backed into a corner, naturally he baulked at it, frustrated, confused, and emotionally drained. Finding himself forced to simply listen as the two men made their case. After all, what else could he do? Walk out? This was _his_ god damned flat!

It wasn't like he could deny it either. He knew what had happened. Hell, he'd _watched_ it happen for Christ's sake! Under the influence or not, it hadn't been mere chance that Quinn and Becker had been attracted to his scent, or even to each other individually. That had been deliberate. And his reaction…Well-

_Insanity aside, he had to admit that it made a strange sort of sense…_

"What we did? You're response? That wasn't down to chance," Becker continued, still flushing openly, but refusing to back down nonetheless. "And we were thinking, that is if you agree, that we should… Well, what I mean to say is that we should-"

"Shag," Quinn butted in, "but this time without the bloody pollen," he finished smoothly, taking a remarkably casual sip of his beer like he _hadn't _just gone and pulled the equivalent of hitting the shiny red button marked: 'Danger, nuclear warhead' on the entire conversation.

His mouth dropped open. He couldn't help it, he just-…He wasn't-

…_What?_

**A/N:** More to come! Sorry for the short chapter, this is more a transitional chapter then anything else. Hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** See original chapter for full warnings and information.

**Authors Note #2: **This is a continuation of _"Smoke Stack Heroes,"_ set directly after the story left off. *** **Special thanks once again to _Fififolle_ for her helpful encouragement and lovely beta work. All mistakes are my own.

**Tinder Dry – Chapter 4**

He supposed it had to be a first. The formidable James P. Lester left dumbstruck and mute, rendered completely, and unrepentantly speechless in the wake of just a few simple words. Because honestly? He had nothing. No witty quip or scathing rejoinder. No perfectly timed comment or easy barb. Just… _nothing_.

He cleared his throat, all too aware of how the sound carried. Trying at the very least, to buy himself some time as he drained the rest of his glass. Idly entertaining everything from causing a scene to stuttering out some sort of inane reply as his mind worked furiously, trying to work his way out of the ginormous, gaping hole he'd somehow dug himself into. But in the end all his half panicked musings proved for naught, because by the time he looked up they were already moving.

Because before he could even process the movement, Becker's hand was wrapping around the glass. Rough edged tips ghosting across his knuckles as the younger man spirited the glass out of his suddenly nerveless fingers. _…Oh._

"I'll have you know that tag-teaming is grossly unfair," he managed to quip, pleased in spite of himself when his voice remained remarkably steady. A feat worthy of note in his opinion, especially considering the fact that Becker had used his momentary distraction to his advantage. Now tugging at his braces and weaving unrepentantly through the grey, charcoal silk as the man's free hand curled around the nape of his neck.

He found himself suddenly hyper aware of everything around him, the growing heat of the room, the fading burn of Talisker mellowing in the back of his throat. Even the sensation of those dry, callous roughened hands ghosting through his short brown hair was enough to make his heart all but skip a beat. Getting stuck on the way the soldier's fingers were carding through his hair, mussing the immaculately styled strands as though the younger man had been waiting all this time to do _just _that.

But when the soldier's fingers rasped across his scalp he nearly hissed, an impassioned growl building in the back of his throat as he tempered down the urge to reciprocate. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as Becker's hands grew bolder still. Tugging and teasing at the strands as the man mouthed a kiss along the base of his throat, adding just a hint of teeth for flavour before he pulled away. Full lips wet and rouged with abuse as the man's lower lip caught between his teeth. Canines flashing wolfishly in the low light before Quinn moved, upsetting the shadows until it looked as though the action had been no more than a trick of the light.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

"Oh I don't know about that… _James_," Quinn purred, forearms brushing against his shoulder as he leaned in. "I seem to remember that you gave both of us more than a run for our money last night," he rasped, chuckling into the curve of his throat as one, wide palmed hand dug into the knots of his shoulder blades.

He found himself completely unable to stifle a pleasured groan as the man's hands winged across a particularly tender spot, all but leaning into the touch now as Becker hemmed him in from the other side.

"You can write a disciplinary memo about it tomorrow," Becker murmured, dropping down to his knees without preamble as he crowded him back into the depths of the settee.

"Don't-…don't think I won't," he shot back, voice mock stern as Quinn muffled a laugh into his skin, his head dipping down to nibble on his earlobe as Becker made short work of the remaining buttons of his shirt. Parting the sides the man's blunt fingers moved down and dug into the muscles of his thighs, so close to his already straining cock that he had to squeeze his eyes shut, the sensations almost too much as the two men worked in tandem.

His nerve endings felt like they were on fucking _fire._

And that was the moment when he realised that he was still just sitting there, hands clenching the armrests of his chair like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. …_Just taking it. _And in spite of it all, the corners of his lips twitched at the very thought. Because confusion and uncertainly aside, that just would not stand. A Lester didn't _do _passive anymore than he did _surrender_.

So, it was with that thought in mind that he figured a bit of debauchery was par for the course. Surprising both of them when his arm shot up, fisting a hand into Quinn's hair as he brought the man in for a blistering kiss. Wrenching him down and taking the brunt of the man's weight as Quinn's arms fish-tailed for balance. Limbs going pleasure limp and pliable as the taller man all but _melted_ into him. .._Yes..Like that. _

But after a few lingering, and indeed quite conflicted moments he pushed them both away, insistent at least in this as he rose from his chair. Letting the flat of his palms rest against their chests for a few lingering moments before he moved away, fingers trailing rather deliberately down the length of their muscled chests and fluttering navels as the two men breathed hard in his wake. Because if he knew one thing for certain, it was that he was getting too damned old to spend another night on the bloody floor.

"How about we do something novel and try doing this _horizontally_ for a change?" he breathed, tone losing most of its snap as Quinn's hands ghosted down his spine. Breaths going husky and rough edged as the taller man nibbled blunt edged kisses into his skin, fingers hooking around his loosened collar as Becker's hands fumbled with the front of his trousers.

"You didn't seem too concerned about that last night when you-_mmph_!" Becker began, eyes still dancing with laughter as he lurched up and shut the man up with a brutal kiss.

But it wasn't just _any _kiss. He hooked the man in by the neck and licked his way into the younger man's mouth like he _owned_ it, only releasing him when they were both shuddering and panting for breath, causing Becker to stumble back into Quinn's eager arms, wanton and deliciously pliable as his gaze went half lidded, licking the edges of his lips like he was chasing the taste of him across the span of his lips.

_Bloody hell._

It took a while to get there, but when they made it to the threshold of the bedroom things got a bit… _heated_. With lingering kisses turning into hard presses and fingers that played for keeps. And before he knew it he was sent tumbling backwards, falling back on the mattress with a surprised grunt as Becker and Quinn quickly followed.

It was so much like the night before that he_ had_ to bark a grudging laugh into the rumpled sheets. His chin caught on the curve of someone's hip as Quinn and Becker piled on top of him, stifling their own laughter as relieved chuckles slowly melted back down into pleasured hums and drawn out groans of pleasure.

He lost patience then, unsnapping buttons and pulling down zips as he cursed under his breath. He couldn't seem to rid them of their clothes fast enough. Fingers all but shaking as he yanked off half shucked jumpers and stubborn fastenings, struggling with his trousers until Quinn batted his hands away.

His trousers pooled down the bed, getting trapped somewhere around his ankles as Becker shifted, man-handling himself on top as the soldier's hand curled around the waistband of his shorts and _tugged. _Drawing him in with a slow and undeniably sensual kiss as Quinn's fingers dug into the younger man's coarse brown hair. The action elicited a passionate little hiss as Becker bucked into the arch of his groin on impulse, seeking the same delicious friction as he met the man halfway.

_Christ that was good!_

Somewhere in between the haze of skin and rolling pleasure he pushed his way up from the bottom of the pile, rolling Quinn underneath him without a second thought, as he licked a path from neck to navel, nipping at the man's small, dusky nipples just to hear the ginger man _mewl_ before arcing downwards. His senses felt all but _electric_ as he raked a hand down the length of the taller man's chest. Grunting in pleasure as Becker curled in from behind, adjusting to the new dynamic with apparent ease.

Quinn just hummed his approval, hips arching up the same time as Becker leaned forward. Doubling the stimulation as his brain nearly short circuited. Because suddenly he was very much aware of the heavy brush of the man's cock against his arse, of the pain-pleasured way that Becker's blunt tips were raking across his skin, fingers scoring outwards like he was relearning the way. Pressing open mouthed kisses into the vulnerable dip of his shoulder, unsightly scar and all, as a string of half muffled nonsense streamed from his spit-slick lips.

_Christ, how did people live through these types of affairs without suffering from bloody heart failure!_

"Are you ever _not_ in control?" Quinn chuckled, lashes fluttering as his hips tilted upwards, rubbing himself against him in a way that had him biting his lip. Meeting the taller man's smouldering eyes stare for stare before he captured the man's lips in a blistering kiss.

"Do you ever shut you gob?" he shot back, pulling back only when he'd satisfied himself with rendering the man momentarily speechless.

"…Good point," the man finally returned. Amused chuckles suddenly breaking off into a strangled hiccup as his fist curled around the man's length. Stroking him with deliberate slowness as Quinn cursed, eyes going half lidded as he fisted the sheets. Messy hair sticking up in chaotic, fire red spikes as the man thumped the back of his head into pillows.

He'd planned on drawing it out, on making the quirky redhead squirm and beg. But he lost his composure somewhere in between the eighth downward stroke and one of Quinn's throaty, unabashed moans. With the man thrusting up into each stroke as pre-cum slicked his head, easing the glide as he worked the man over with the curl of his palm.

He lost it because Becker suddenly moved behind him, shifting impossibly closer as an unexpectedly slick finger ghosted down the length of his crack like an unvoiced question. He sucked in a strangled breath of air as the soldier's hands curled around the jut of his hip, their new position bringing the younger man's cock level with his arse as the man throbbed against him.

He actually heard the sudden intake of breath as the man's hips hitched forward, smearing pre-cum across his naked cheeks the same moment as Quinn pressed a tube of lube into his nerveless fingers. Limbs flailing for a long, awkward moment as the ginger haired man turned over, fixing him with a smouldering and undeniably expectant look as he gazed back over his shoulder at him. …The man's desires all too clear.

_Oh god… _He felt like the air in the room had suddenly been napalmed. They wanted to do it like this? …Together? _Fucking hell.._

He breathed in raggedly, reality slamming back down like a crushing weight. …_Good lord. _They were really going to do this… They were really going to-

But he didn't even get a moment to finish that thought, because by then they were all over him. Because their mouths were hot and slick and he couldn't keep it together. Not this time. Because he was shaking and gasping against their lips, losing and finding himself all at the same time as Becker did his best to all but _climb_ up the length of him. Making him feel like he was smack in the middle of a push-pull tug-of-war when Quinn wrapped his arms around him from underneath. Senses exploding at the stimulation as large hands palmed the arch of his hip, digging into the lean muscles of his forearms and whispering across the sensitive skin of his chest as the man urged him on. Curses and endearments free falling from the ginger man's lips like offerings at some obscure, little known alter.

He leaned forward, switching his weight to his forearms as his spine arched, hitching thoughtlessly into the press as Becker's slick hand scorched down the length of his cleft. Hips snapping forward on instinct alone as his cock inadvertently slipped between the redhead's cheeks, riding the crease as the taller man shivered underneath him, making him expel a pent up breath at the sound of Quinn's desperate whine.

He only had about a hundred and one different questions. Namely where did they go from here? And where in the_ bleeding_ hell did that tube of lube even come from? But he didn't get to ask any of them. Instead his mind was enveloped by grey-hewn static, struck dumb at the tentative, butterfly press as Becker's fingers brushed against his hole. Conscious thought abruptly fleeing as he nearly forgot how to breathe.

"Relax Lester," Becker muttered. Patient yet eager all at the same time as the man traced the fluttering ring of his hole, body clenching and unclenching in response to the man's attentions.

"Just, _christ.._ Get on with it," he gasped, forgetting all about his usual, aloft calm as one of Becker's fingers sunk in to the first knuckle.

"Cheeky," Quinn hummed. Voice half muffled in the pile of pillows as the man squirmed into the sheets. All but writhing under his ministrations as he rimmed his slick fingers around the circumference of the red head's freckled hole.

"Like you're in any position to talk Quinn," he snapped, too distracted to actually pay the man any mind as his eyes focused on the point where both his index and middle finger were disappearing into the man's hole. He bit his lip, breaking skin in the process as the man moaned out a stream of slurred consonants and broken off vowels. His cock throbbed, eyes fixed on the way the man was just _taking _it, him. Insides slick and furnace hot as the man pushed back into his hands, demanding, wanton, and completely distracting as Becker pressed in from behind once more.

"_Relax…_" the younger man rumbled, breaths gusting across the shell of his ear as the solider reached underneath him and teased his hand across his sack. The touch gentle, firm, and reassuring all at once.

So he did just that. Going by his gut and a single night of half remembered experiences, he learned as he went. Filing away every quiver, every pitching noise and inadvertent thrust as Quinn came apart under his hands. Breaths devolving into harsh pants as Quinn's hips hitched off the bed, bearing down on his fingers like the man just couldn't get enough. Body pleading wordlessly as the man seemed to lose his grasp on the English language completely.

And for his part, he had to admit that he squirmed at the burn, shifting restlessly at the uncommon stretch that no amount of lube or preparation could negate. Forcing himself to relax even as Becker's calloused fingers scissored inside of him. Free hand raking down his side like a distraction as the younger man pressed sloppy kisses into his spine. Working him over until the man had him so blissed out that he barely even registered the introduction of the third finger.

So perhaps that was why he was caught completely off guard when Becker's fingers _curled. _Hooking inside him _just _so as static blurred across the edge of his vision. The sensation was electrifyingly obscene. Sending any lingering traces of propriety and reserve flying right out the bloody window as a broken off moan of pleasure hissed out from between his tightly clenched teeth.

_Jesus…Fuck!_

Buoyed with confidence he did the same with Quinn, fighting the rolling waves of pleasure, before he lost it completely. Sinking his teeth into the man's flank to muffle his groans as Quinn hissed out a strangled moan, clenching around his fingers like bloody vice as he brushed against the man's prostate.

Christ… _This_. Yes.

Because god help him, but he wanted it all, damn the consequences. Nothing had ever seemed more clear, more _simple_. He didn't know how to explain it, how to justify it, or to even begin to make sense of the hows, wheres, and whys. _He just knew… _

He wanted to savour every moment, to remember it in a way he hadn't been able to the last time. But before he could slow the pace, before he could even so much as verbalise it, he was suddenly encompassed on all sides. Body taking over where his brain had stalled as he eased into Quinn with one long, easy stroke, bottoming out the same moment Becker parted his cheeks and entered him from behind. Connecting them together in a way he was certain there wasn't a single word in the entire history of the human language that was adequate enough to rightly express.

…And somewhat understandably, that was also the moment where he stopped thinking entirely…

**A/N:** Oops I lied again, one more installment after this to wrap it up! The epilogue was just too awkward to include in this section. Hope you enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** See original chapter for full warnings and information.

**Authors Note #2: **Special thanks once again to _Fififolle_ for her helpful encouragement and lovely beta work. All mistakes are my own.

**Tinder Dry – Chapter 5**

He woke up for the second time in so many days completely lost amidst a sea of overly familiar limbs and the gentle burn of stubble rasping across his naked skin. But unlike the last time, he recalled exactly how he'd got there. And this time in vivid, living colour no less.

He smirked into the near dark, his mind filtering through the memories at leisure as the silence stretched. Blinking slowly as a sliver of moonlight filtered in through the partially closed blinds, lighting up a swatch of the bedroom in a muted, silver glow. Simply enjoying the moment, he shifted in place, limbs pleasure heavy and sated as his muscles throbbed in concert, the simmering burn standing as a sensual sort of reminder of their actions only a few hours previous.

He hummed under his breath as he dug his heels into the mattress, spine arching in a lazy stretch before one of the two snorted out a muffled and somewhat disgruntled sounding huff, apparently displeased at the interruption as he eased himself back down into the pile. The moment rested somewhere in between sinfully good and unbelievably comfortable as the two slept on, content to simply watch and reflect as he took in the events of the last forty-eight hours. Contemplating the sheer enormity of the entire affair as he let Danny and Becker sleep on uninterrupted.

It wasn't until his bladder began kicking up a fuss that he forced himself to move. Shoving, prodding, and systematically untangling himself from the shifting mess of limbs in order to tip-toe across the room and into the en suite.

Once finished his nightly ablutions he paused on the threshold as he took in the scene before him. He shook his head, lips quirking upwards as the two men shifted restlessly. Upset limbs and splayed fingers twitching into the empty space he'd left behind, as if even in their sleep they could sense his absence.

He ran a hand down his face as he took it in, watching for the pure pleasure of it as the subtle details and little intimacies washed over him. Things like how Becker had come to hog all the blankets, curling up in a mummy-like shroud the longer the night progressed. Or how Quinn hadn't seemed satisfied until he was practically lying on top of both of them, tall frame encompassing the circumference of the bed like some daft sort of overgrown starfish.

_Christ, he'd missed this. _

There were a lot of things he regretted in his life, his early marriage, his souring relationship with his elderly father, and the uncountable political blunders of his early career. Even the untimely deaths of Cutter and Stephen under his charge, and the loss of men and women he'd had the obligation and responsibility to keep safe. But _this_, this fledgling _thing _they now shared, he was determined, would **not **be one of them.

Perhaps a few days ago he would have called this complicated, maybe even insane or downright impossible if he decided to get wordy… But today? Call him ridiculous, but today this seemed like something just short of _perfect_.

After all, he ran one of the most hush-hush operations in the blasted country. Juggling two male lovers likely wouldn't even hold a candle to trying to explain to the Prime Minister that no, their budget _couldn't _be cut this quarter. Or that no, they couldn't just magically 'tone down the madness' for a 'little while' simply because it was nearing election season.

Because apparently G-Rex's, prehistoric sea monsters, and mind altering sex pollen weren't explanations in and of themselves when it came to stuffy, overbearing nitwits who were more concerned with keeping their virtual_ harems_ of mistresses happy rather than consider the possibility that with one wrong move, some James Bond archetype could accidentally wipe humanity right off the history of the god damned planet.

_Complicated, his arse. _

So, with that thought in mind, he threw all thoughts of ruined careers, inevitable political scandal, and the rather maudlin possibility of personal heartbreak right out the proverbial window, and burrowed his way back under the covers. Content, at least for the moment, to concentrate on what they had right here, right now. Simply taking it as his due as he wriggled his way in between the two without a second thought, pinching Quinn lightly on the arse as he roused the redhead long enough to make room.

And as his lashes fluttered, he was grateful for the darkness that hid the small, contented smile that twitched across his lips as Becker cuddled into him from behind. Both men drawing him in until it looked as though he'd never left. Completing the chaotic bundle of too warm skin and overly familiar limbs as twin heart beats slowly lulled him back to sleep.

_He had a reputation to uphold, after all…_

**A/N:** This is the final installment! Hope you all enjoyed! Thank you for reading! I had such fun writing this addition to _Smoke Stack Heroes_. I might even dabble more in the general universe at some point, but for now this story is complete.


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